The Cobalt Screening Room Balcony

Post #568: Lest you think I have become a ghoul in my social distancing, let me set the record straight with today's feature, *The Ghost Breakers* (1940) which is the spiritual ancestor of *Ghostbusters* (1984) and inspiration for that classic. Dan Aykroyd has gone on the record to suggest this Bob Hope comedy was the train he hopped for Bill Murray, Harold Ramis and Ernie Hudson. While it's not a special effects extravaganza bursting with supernatural overtones, it still builds on the success of the Hope-Paulette Goddard teaming in *The Cat And The Canary* (1939) and improves on it dramatically. With Willie Best raising the comic chemistry with Hope, this is one sure fire comedy with horror overtones, and for once Bob Hope gets to play a hero rather than a coward, something that pleased Hope no end.

Often cited as one of the best comedy-horror films made, *The Ghost Busters* starts out with a crackling good opening as Manhattan has fallen prey to a blackout during an intense electrical storm. Mary Carter (Paulette Goddard), packing for a trip to Cuba, looks out at the violent weather which energizes her when Mr. Parada (Paul Lukas) arrives with a deed to her newly inherited plantation and mansion, "Castillo Maldito" (or "Castle Of The Damned"). Inky smooth and somewhat sinister in his aspect, Parada warns Mary against going to the island castle and tries to leverage a sale of it. But Mary is headstrong and persistent--she'll have nothing of it, as she wants to investigate the castle herself.

Meanwhile, Lawrence "Larry" Lawrence (Bob Hope) broadcasts his regular series of crime exposes assisted incognito by his underworld informer Raspy Kelly (Tom Dugan). But tonight he uncovers some news that Frenchy Duval (Paul Fix) would prefer remains undisclosed and he invites Larry to his apartment to get things straight--which might include Larry's dead body. Before leaving for Frenchy's encounter, Larry and his valet sidekick Alex (Willie Best, whom Hope called "one of the finest actors I've ever worked with") pack everything for an extended vacation, provided her returns from Frenchy's.

All comic lines converge on Mary's Manhattan hotel floor, as Mary receives a phone call from the mysterious Mr. Mederos (Anthony Quinn) who warns her not to sell her inheritance to Parada and arranges to meet with her later. Unfortunately for her and Larry--but fortunately for us--as Larry approaches Frenchy's apartment, Mederos is shot and killed, with Larry mistaken as the assassin. Barging into Mary's apartment for safety our stars are now bound together in the mystery that unfolds on Black Island in Havana, with Alex, Parada and Mederos' twin brother in tow. Mirth, mischief and mayhem inhabit the Island, as does a creepy zombie (Noble Johnson, who also appeared in *The Mummy* (1932), *King Kong* and *Son Of Kong* both in 1933)) with cavernous rooms, mile-wide and long staircases, and a particularly ambulatory ghost.

George Marshall, who worked extensively with Laurel and Hardy and W.C. Fields, helms the fun as director, and remade the same film twenty-three years later with Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis (1953) in *Scared Stiff* which also features cameos from Hope and Bing Crosby. The tone is pitch perfect, mixing suspense with a strong woman's role and Hope's inimitable wit. Willie Best never takes the unenviable role of "stupid" comic relief, but stands as Paulette Goddard's equal in sharing the spotlight with Bob Hope. Gratefully there's none of the prototypical scared black man portrayal that makes us wince today, just a solid sprinkling of jokes and plot development aided by Best's superb comic timing. Dennis Seuling of Digital Bits observed, "Willie Best made this film at a time when Black actors were stereotyped as superstitious and fearful. In horror films, their eyes popped, they shook uncontrollably, their hair stood on end, and they ran from any hint of a supernatural entity. This script treats Best’s character respectfully. Though his Alex is a servant, he gets his boss out of predicaments and solves his problems. He’s a cool, funny sidekick, with a winning on-screen personality."

Interesting from a social distance, *The Ghost Breakers* in retrospect is also an interesting commentary on race in 1940. While a couple jokes are racially uncomfortable and insensitive--"You look like a black out in a blackout. If this keeps up I'm going to have to paint you white!" Larry tells Alex, and at another time when Hope quips, "Something smells around here,” Best replies, “And it ain’t fried chicken!”--Alex is always dressed in a suit and tie and treated with respect. It's the Latino characters who command the greatest stereotyping. Cuba is basically reduced to a misty harbor, a swinging nightclub, and the grimly prominent old manse. Maderos is hot blooded, tempestuous, and Parada is sinister and untrustworthy. But it's also telling that in our closing scene we have a congregation of diversity banding together--a WASP (Hope), a Jewish princess (Goddard), a Latino (Queen) and a black (Best).

Anthony Quinn, Paul Lukas and Richard Carlson stand in as serious counterparts for the lightness and strength of our comic trio, and the story--a variation of the old dark house trope--carries a freshness that makes this film, in the words of author Peter Dendle (*The Zombie Movie Encyclopedia*) "among Bob Hope's finest pictures, and the direction is smooth and the lines delivered flawless." *New York Times* critic Bosley Crowther said, "It looks as though Paramount has really discovered something: it has found the fabled formula for making an audience shriek with laughter and fright at one and (as the barkers say) the simultaneous time."

While Hope went on to make the Road pictures with Bing Crosby, the success of *The Ghost Breakers* led to his third teaming with Paulette Goddard in *Nothing But The Truth* (1941). According to TCM, "it must be noted that although Goddard spoke politely about her co-star in public, by the time they made *Nothing But the Truth*, she no longer cared much for Hope, according to some sources, and was sick of the pushy, egomaniacal off-screen behavior he was already famous for in Hollywood." Director Elliot Nugent said Hope was one of the most difficult performers it was his misfortune to direct because he always insisted on his own ideas, and he had suggestions about virtually every scene and shot. "Some of his ideas were good and others not so good, but he was such a fathead that you couldn't tell him anything," Nugent told Hope biographer Lawrence J. Quirk. "Looking back, I could kick myself for deferring to his approach most of the time, just to have quiet and peace."

Regardless of fireworks off screen, on screen Hope and Goddard and Best make the most of their 85 minutes with smart, sassy and saucy scenes designed to entertain from the get-go. It appears 1940 was a splendid year for Bob Hope for he was riding high on his radio program, starring in this vehicle and starting down the Road with Bing on *Road To Singapore* (1940). This one ranks right up there with the Road pictures, so you'd be wise to relax with this one if the spirit moves you.
Enjoy.
Jeff

Post #570: In the immortal words of Gahagan (Tom Kennedy), I feel a poem comin' on: There was a reporter named Blane, whose methods drove police insane; while the crooks counterfeit, she put Steve in a snit, but he couldn't yell yell something profane. It's been a while since we last checked in with Torchy Blane (Glenda Farrell), so I figured it was about time to trot out Torchy movie number six out of her nine escapades, and here it is *Torchy Gets Her Man* (1938). Today's commentary will be short because it's a mere variation on a theme we've visited numerous times before, but it's still a lot of fun.

Torchy is already on the scene when FBI agent Charles Gilbert (Willard Robertson) sidles up to the ever flummoxed Desk Sergeant Graves (George Guhl in his incompetent best here) to seek a private audience with Police Captain McTavish (Frank Shannon). It appears $100 Bill Bailey is in town, passing fake C-notes, and the secret service men want McBride's help in catching him at the racetrack. It's a purely covert sting, so Torchy can't get wind of it (yeah, right). As with most lighthearted Torchy stories, you can spot the bad guy from as far away as Utah if you live in Michigan, but that's not the point. The exercise is in watching Torchy run logical rings around MacBride and McTavish over 63 minutes.

*Torchy Gets Her Man* is the first of two Torchy films to be directed by William "One Shot" Beaudine, so named because of his speed behind the camera and his propensity for not doing more than one take. This is a good Torchy film to catch especially because we are afforded the opportunity to deliver a nearly 400-word speech in 40 seconds, a talent that served Glenda Farrell well in these films. In an interview, Farrell said cinematic female reporters "were caricatures of newspaperwomen as I knew them. Before I undertook to do the first Torchy, I determined to create a real human being...I met those who visited Hollywood and watched them on visits to New York City. They were generally young, intelligent, refined, and attractive. By making Torchy true to life, I tried to create a character practically unique to the movies."

No less than Garson Kanin wrote about Farrell, "She invented and developed that made-tough, uncompromising, knowing, wisecracking, undefeatable blonde. Whether she was the Girl Friend of the star, a cynical secretary, a salesgirl, a world-weary wife, a madam, homesteader, or schoolteacher--she was always, relentlessly The Type." Her basic likability coaxes the audience to cheer her, while always knowing nothing horrible will befall her, even though she comes close, this time trussed away in a secret room with a glycerin bomb set to destroy the whole place with Gahagan trying to wriggle free next to her. Still the posters scream, "Torchy Puts All Her Yeggs In One Basket... And Cracks A Crime Trust Wide Open!"

Originally I thought the title implied she and MacBride were finally tying the knot. NOT. But she does get a steak this time around, which turns into the clue that wakes MacBride from his somnambulism and rights things with the help of a German Shepherd named Blitzen who understands commands barked in German, of course. While it's great to see Glenda again, this time around Torchy is a little less commanding than I would enjoy, but she can still rattle off the dialogue with panache. So while this is a nice entry in the series, there's not much of a mystery at all, rather like a fast-tracked Columbo episode in which we know where it's going and we enjoy the journey there. Not bad, not great, just fun. Gahagan takes poems in stride, while he sees Torchy nudged to the side, but through strange convolutions and crime revolutions, she'll enjoy lots more steak than MacBride.
Enjoy.
Jeff

Love the cars in those old movies

Post #571: We're approaching a most excellent holiday in about a week, so let's dust of a turkey that made audiences laugh unashamedly in two films that have now sired a third in the series, which was never planned as a series. Yes, I'm talking about the righteous friends who turned history on its head with their time travel that never crossed paths with Marty McFly and Doc Brown and never needed a Time Tunnel to get the work done. In today's feature, *Bill And Ted Face The Music* (2020), Alex Winter and Keanu Reeves are back to back again, this time ready to save the universe and reality as we know it from utter and complete implosion. And I can't think of a more contentious time to enjoy their exploits in bringing total tonal harmony to humankind.

When we last saw William S. "Bill" Preston (Alex Winter) and Ted "Theodore" Logan (Keanu Reeves), way back in 1991, our heroes (and I use the term loosely) had married their former 15th-century princesses Joanna (now played by Jayma Mays) and Elizabeth (Erinn Hayes respectively) and performed with Death (William Sadler reprising his role) as Wyld Stallyns. Today, Bill and Ted have yet to write the prophetic song to unite the world, and time (and space) is running out, collapsing in on itself unless they can perform the saving grace tune by 7:17 that evening. Sending them on their mission are Kelly (Kristen Schaal), daughter of the sagely Rufus (the late George Carlin who appears briefly as a hologram; as a tribute to Carlin, the character Kelly is named after his real life daughter) and her mother The Great Leader (Holland Taylor). Whoa! Dude!

Interrupting their couples therapy group, without a single note to sing between them, Bill and Ted set off to steal the apocryphal song from their future selves using Rufus's traveling phone booth (shades of the TARDIS), and that's where it all goes cattywompus. Wonderfully so, if you're in the proper state of mind to enjoy the goofy, innocent mania that these two nutballs inspire. If you're one of those folks who get a headache trying to make sense of time travel and the infinite realities that exist independent from our own, my best advice is just to sit back and enjoy your ice cream. Timelines and the butterfly effect have no serious domain here.

While Bill and Ted traverse the various trajectories of their lives, past and present and maybe future if they're lucky, back home in San Dimas are their daughters, Theadora "Thea" Preston, Bill and Joanna's daughter (Samara Weaving, niece of Hugo Weaving from *The Matrix*) and Wilhelmina "Billie" Logan (Brigette Lundy-Paine), Ted and Elizabeth's progeny. Armed with enough spunk and family wisdom to make a difference, they set out to assemble the best band time has never allowed to exist in the same place-- Jimi Hendrix (DazMann Still), Louis Armstrong (Jeremiah Craft), Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (Daniel Dorr), Ling Lun (Sharon Gee) the legendary founder of ancient Chinese music, and Grom (Patty Anne Miller), a drummer from before recorded history. Throw in a cameo from Dave Grohl of Foo Fighters, Kid Cudi as himself, and "Weird Al" Yankovic, Jimmy Kimmel's talk show sidekick Guillermo Rodriguez and actor Nathan Head during the credits, and you've got one spirited ensemble.

Creators Ed Solomon and Chris Matheson are also back in the driver's seat, keeping the tone and texture of the original Bill and Ted movies intact: Good-natured, basically harmless humor, a relatively family friendly approach, just a light sprinkling of adult language, and basically inspired fun that finds our principals not that far removed from who they were twenty-nine years ago--and their daughters gamely capture the mannerisms and spirit of their cinematic fathers perfectly. Since Bill and Ted movies were roundly dismissed by today's studios as "cult movies" rather than mainstream blockbusters, especially with the pandemic raging, *Bill And Ted Face The Music* snuck into Video On Demand and DVD Blu-Ray markets without much fanfare.

Solomon especially was adamant about the film not being a cash-and-grab: "We have a script that we really are proud of, that we worked very hard on, that we've done many iterations of—and we did it on spec, meaning we spent years working on it because we wanted to get it right, creatively. This is not, 'Hey let's all cash-in on the Bill & Ted thing for money'—this is the opposite. This is, 'We love these characters, they've been with us for our whole lives'—Chris and me, and Alex and Keanu—and we wanted to visit them again as middle-aged men. We thought it would be really fun, and funny, and sweet." And that's precisely what it is. Joyful, gleeful, screwy mayhem with a soft caramel center. Securing Steven Soderbergh as executive producer, spurned on by the success of Reeves' *John Wick* successes, MGM's relaunch of Orion Pictures took a 15% cut of the film's revenue for distribution and supplied a $15 million marketing package to be recouped from the revenue.

The fifth most popular film released during the Covid-19 pandemic, *Bill And Ted Face the Music* grossed $400,000 from 1,007 theaters in its first day, and went on to debut to $1.1 million, finishing third at the box office to generally favorable critical appeal, though many on IMDB savaged it. I'm not sure why, to be honest; I thoroughly enjoyed this blast from the past though the special effects were not awesome, nor were they non non-heinous. Yes, it looks a little rushed, but its spirit is intact. *Variety* critic Owen Glieberman said, "It zips right along, it makes you smile and chortle, it's a surprisingly sweet-spirited love story... and it's a better tribute to the one-world utopian power of classic rock than *Yesterday* (2019) was. On a scale of one to 10, I wouldn't say that *Face the Music* goes to 11, but it's a most excellent sequel."

Solomon added, "It wasn't when we were first writing it, but as we saw Brigette and Samara inhabit these roles, I thought for sure if there was interest and people wanted to carry this forward, the Bill & Ted spirit, I would absolutely let those characters carry it forward. I think we've finished with the Alex and Keanu Bill & Ted story. I think it's done, but if people were interested in a Billie & Thea continuation, I think it'd be cool." Both Winter and Reeves have acknowledged they'd be up for another installment if the fans called for it. With a budget of $1.6 million and returns domestically of $3,439,660
with a cumulative worldwide gross of $6,177,481, that might not be out of the question.

According to IMDB, "Once the characters are told they have 77 minutes to save the universe, there is actually 77 minutes of runtime left. That means the events of the movie happen in real time." For all its 91 minutes it's wacky, funny and nicely mind bending, taking us away from the troubles we encounter every day. For that alone I give *Bill And Ted Face The Music* an enthusiastic air guitar solo.
Enjoy.
Jeff

Jeff, like you I enjoyed this movie. Did not expect Citizen Kane so was quite happy to return to the silly universe of Bill and Ted. Most bogus was the loss of George Carlin who made the first two so good.

I haven't seen it yet. But I'm always up for some good silly fun.

I'm with Seamus on this: Most excellent, Dude.
Jeff

Post #572: A steady rain punctuated with thunder and lightning beat the small Pennsylvania town of Iverstown into submission one night in 1928. Thirteen-year-old Martha Brown Ivers (Janis Wilson) was shivering in the cold comfort of a boxcar, nuzzling her kitten, as the one person she could trust, Sam Masterson (Darryl Hickman), scavenges for food before the train moves out of town. Unfortunately, the police captured the kids and returned Martha to the hands of her hateful, harsh disciplinarian aunt (Judith Anderson), who demanded Martha shape up as she bears the name of the town's founder and must live up to her heritage.

Along for the rocky ride were Martha's tutor, Walter O'Neil Sr. (Roman Bohnen) and his recessive milquetoast son Walter Jr. (Mickey Kuhn), who is the polar opposite of Sam, who escaped the police's grasp and now snuck into Martha's room, urging her to escape with him into the night. But when Auntie accosted Martha's kitten on the stairs, beating the poor thing savagely with her cane, Martha intervened leaving the old bat in a crumpled mass at the foot of the stairway. Deader than a mackerel. So begins the gay, light-hearted story of narcissistic self preservation, control and blackmail that is today's feature, *The Strange Love Of Martha Iver* (1946).

This is also the film debut of Kirk Douglas, who was moved into cinematic prominence by his friend Lauren Bacall, who secured him the role. Producer Hal Wallis, in one of his first independent productions after his time at Warner Brothers, said of Douglas, "I knew I was taking a risk putting a newcomer against that powerhouse, Stanwyck, but she was extraordinarily considerate and played unselfishly with him in every scene." According to Hollywood legend chronicled in Douglas's memoir, "The crew adored [Stanwyck]. They called her 'Missy,' and when she came on the set she went around hugging them, asking about their wives and children by name. But she was indifferent to me. Crew members need attention, but who needs help more than somebody working on his first picture? Several weeks later she noticed me. I could see it happening, like the lens of a camera turning into focus. She looked at me, made eye contact for the first time. She said, 'Hey, you're pretty good.' I said, 'Too late, Miss Stanwyck.' I don't think she knew what I meant. But after that, we became friends."

On screen the two carom off one another as husband and wife, forged together by a terrible secret from their youth with the death of elderly Miss Iver. Now running for the position of district attorney at Martha's insistence, Walter is one step above a drunkard, barely able to balance his past with his eroding moral code. It's been seventeen years since that rainy night, and Sam Masterson (Van Heflin), now a professional gambler, is driving back to his hometown when he smashes his 1942 DeSoto Custom Convertible into a post, requiring him to stay the night. Reacquainting himself with the town and its folks who never left, he meets Antonia "Toni" Marachek (a smoldering Lizabeth Scott), preparing to leave town until they form an attraction over their chance meeting.

The duo end up in a hotel with adjoining room and a Jack & Jill bath between them. When she is picked up on a parole violation--she's just been released from jail--Sam looks up his old "pal" Walter, prepared to ask him to intervene. Unfortunately, Walter is still the weak kneed wiener he was as a child, and even though he's been married to Martha for years, he still falls prey to jealousy and fears of blackmail from Sam. Douglas said of his character, "When you play a weak character, find a moment when he's strong, and if you're playing a strong character, find a moment when he's weak. I had a moment when I was at the desk - I stood up, grabbed Van Heflin by the shirt, and stared him in the eye. He was amazed at this sudden moment of strength, and it confused him. We shot it, and the director said, 'Very good.' Van Heflin said, 'Let's do it again.' The next time I grabbed him, he just looked down contemptuously at my hand. How smart of him - he took away the strength. Nothing wrong with that. As an actor, it was the right thing to do."

Thus begins the twisted triangle that makes this delicious film noir so palpably interesting. Barbara Stanwyck renews her venomous vitriol from *Double Indemnity*(1944) with vigor as the morally bankrupt ruler of the town, still seething with desire underneath it all for her childhood confidante Sam. As Sam Van Heflin rolls quarters over his knuckles with ease and quiet menace while straddling the line between good guy and bad guy throughout the film. Set in conflict with Kirk Douglas he creates malice just by existing and being laconic. Lizabeth glows with an insecure but intense internal fire that director Lewis Milestone enhances with a combination of shadows and pure light. Tough while still showing great vulnerability her scenes with Stanwyck clearly align the audience's sympathies with her Toni. It's sizzling.

According to Stanwyck biographer Dan Callahan, "When she saw the coin trick Heflin had learned – at Milestone's suggestion, to show that Heflin's character was a professional gambler – she informed him he should make sure he did not do it during any of her important lines, since she had a bit of business that would upstage him, if she had to. With that she raised her skirt high and adjusted her garter." Milestone meanwhile vowed he would never work again with producer Hal Wallis, who mandated more close-ups of the radiant Lizabeth Scott (no problem here in my eyes). Balking at the suggestion Milestone said to him "If you want more close-ups, you'll have to film them yourself." So Wallis did, and I thank him for them.

Bubbling over with sexual tension in its 116 minutes, the film zeroes in on Martha's cold calculations, sexual promiscuity and boredom with Walter, and her egoistic desires, as Molly Haskell has said, "Just as Lillian Gish is an adaptation of the Victorian virgin to American soil, Stanwyck is a “corruption” of the European femme fatale. She is allied not with the dark forces of nature, but with the green forces of the capitalist economy." She is not one of recriminations; she is sociopathically pleased that she's sent an innocent man to his death so that she might live on the backs of all the workers who have carried out her plans for business expansion: she built her small factory into a multimillion-dollar business empire. “What were their lives compared to mine?” she snarls.

The dialogue cracks and snaps and pops all the way through to its inevitable but perfect conclusion. It's a powerhouse performance all the way around, so definitely carve out some time for this one. But if you like cats, you might want to mute the volume when the old lady throttles the kitten on the stairway--it is brutal. I can't say if it's enough to wish the dowager's wrenching tumble on her, but she sure makes it easy to hiss. Isn't it funny how we can dismiss the death of an unseen human as an "acceptable" plot machination, but if animals are recipients (off screen) of some violence, there's no salvation for the perpetrator?
Enjoy.
Jeff

Post #573: There is a reason I haven't tackled any Disney films in these commentaries: They are like falling into a rabbit hole which has no bottom. So many details and Easter eggs are planted in them, that we could spend the better parts of our lives scrounging and uncovering them. Also, because of the studio name attached to them, Disney films are going to be devoured and written up so much that anything I might observe will just be a rehash to what seven hundred other people have already said.

That said, our feature for today is Pixar's *Onward* (2020), which I thought due to pandemic would have escaped manic scrutiny and maybe I could ease out some thoughts that weren't already Cuisinarted into oblivion. I thought wrong. Just because we're huddling separately does not mean critics stop dissecting anything fresh that comes their way. And so it is with *Onward*, the magical tale of two elven brothers who go on a grand adventure to complete unfinished business with their late father: Ian Lightfoot (Tom Holland) has never said hello to his father who died before Ian was old enough to recall him, and Barley Lightfoot (Chris Pine) never breached the opportunity to say goodbye to him. But in true Disney fashion a deceased parent need not necessarily connote a sad tale; heck, the French have called Disney films "cinema de sadistique" for decades since parental units are almost always absent for their heroes. Track it back, folks, and you'll feel right at home here with unresolved daddy issues.

But since this is the land of magic, Ian and Barley are given a special opportunity--to spend one full day with their father if they employ a rare Phoenix gem which along with Dad's magical staff will reanimate him for twenty-four hours. Ah, but in New Mushroomton things are not that easy, as Dad's spell conjures only his bottom half, everything from the waist down, and the supplied gem burns itself out before completion of the task. And so the quest is on to find another Phoenix gem to complete the transformation before tomorrow's sunset.

While the pace is frantic as the boys scour the land in Barley's tooled-together van Guinevere (a 1978 Chevrolet Chevy Van), complete with airbrushed unicorn on its panels, the real focus of the story is on the deepening bond between the brothers. Through encounters with biker pixies, centaurian police officers, a legendary Manticore named Corey (Octavia Spencer) who has been reduced to running a restaurant, and the possibility of awakening an age-old curse, our heroes persevere, fighting as brothers do. In fast pursuit of them is their mother Laurel (Julia Louis-Dreyfus) who teams with Corey to stall the impending dragon curse that will threaten to destroy the town.

Six years in the making, *Onward* debuted just as the Covid crisis was rearing its head, March 6, 2020, movie theater chains being forced to close before the film could recoup its budget. According to IMDB as a result, Disney "made the unprecedented move of making the film available for digital download only two weeks after its theatrical release [March 20] as it was now the only way people could view it," even though it was ramping up to be am undeniable critical success. Over its first week of home release, the film was the sixth-most watched on Amazon Prime and second-most on the iTunes Store, adding to its gross domestic box office receipts of $61,555,145, international gross of $79,962,108 for a worldwide theatrical release gross of $141,517,253 against its $175-200 million budget.

But it surely was not without its small bout of controversy. *Onward* was banned in Kuwait, Oman, Qatar, and Saudi Arabia due to a line reading by the one-eyed police character Specter (Lena Waithe) who refers in passing to her girlfriend's daughter. In other countries (Russia, Bahrain, the United Arab Emirates, Lebanon, and Egypt), the line was redubbed either "my sister's daughter" or "my partner's daughter" to avoid any suggestion of lesbianism. Also San Francisco tattoo artist Sweet Cecily Daniher filed a lawsuit for Pixar's use of the Daniher's "Vanicorn" mural, which they rented from her for a one-day event in September 2018.

Tori Brazier of Flickering Myth says of the film, "A lot of *Onward*’s emotional heft comes back with a vengeance in the final bits of the film. Without going into spoilerific specifics, the way Ian comes to define his relationship with Barley, and the way in which the story wraps up their quest to properly meet their father, is both traumatic and life-affirming. You are very aware of Pixar’s emotional manipulation, but the company does it so well (they’re professionals at this, anyway) that it’s okay!" Co-writer and director Dan Scanlon drew the story from his own life, losing his father early in life, but feels lucky with the acceptance of the story: "Given the situation, it's wonderful to be able to share the movie and have people see the film, and give some entertainment and hopefully some joy and distraction from all that's going on. It's been wonderful on Twitter and social media, seeing images of families watching the movie. They've been sending me wonderful messages about how much they enjoyed the movie and how much it meant to them during this time. So, yeah, I think given everything, we're happy that people are seeing the film and that the people who are seeing it are enjoying it."

There is so much to see, so many Easter eggs to find, that repeated viewing is recommended. In addition to the scenes of emotional resonance, the sly little jokes that flash past you barely register before you're handed another. One I particularly enjoyed, though, was Barley quaffing down an energy drink--Monster--while driving at breakneck speed. It's a feast for the eyes, and augmented with a stirring full orchestral score from Mychael and Jeff Danna, the soundtrack takes it Dungeons and Dragons pedigree very seriously indeed. Its 102 minute fly by breathlessly, with time out on occasion to draw at the tear ducts over the role of family.

It's a joyful journey. Take it this season and share it with those closest to you. Be safe and sane and healthful, ya'll. You never know when a cursed dragon may be lurking by.
Enjoy.
Jeff

I've seriously considered recreating a 70's custom van. And that's not even close to my most hare-brained scheme. That canyon shenanigan comes readily to mind. Some day...

Post #574: Ticking off the various levels of racism in 1930s-1940s films, one might pause over the DVD control at the very mention of the title of today's feature, *Torchy Blane In Chinatown* (1939). Oh Lord, how many wince-able stereotypes are going to assault us? Well, relax, my friends, because this one is not nearly as bold in its casual racism as many films of the time. Only a slight slight at the end of its brisk 58 minutes will turn your sensibilities inside out, as our dirty deedsters murder not only main characters but the English language as well. Otherwise, Chinese culture is treated with some respect--unless you count the mayor of Chinatown (Tetsu Komai) being portrayed by a Japanese actor. Forget it, Jake, it's Chinatown.

By this time, you know the drill: McBride (Barton MacLane) seems to be the only police lieutenant around who can get an important case which he must keep from the prying but perceptive eyes of Torchy (Glenda Farrell in her penultimate reporter role). As good hearted as he is, he still fumbles and bumbles while his fiancee splashes confidential information all over the morning paper. This time, at the behest of Senator Baldwin (Henry O'Neill), the owner of the world's largest Chinese jade collection, Steve must investigate death threats, promising a midnight deadline date with destiny if a ransom is not paid for the priceless jade tablets taken from descendants of an ancient Oriental clan.

In the crosshairs of the assassination promise are Allen Fitzhugh (Anderson Lawler), Mr. Mansfield (James Stephenson) and Captain Condon (Patric Knowles), the three Americans who procured the tablets and brought them to the US. One by one they will be killed over a span of days if restitution is not made. Before McBride can say Kung Pao and Torchy can yearn for a steak, the well guarded men are summarily knocked off, Fitzhugh getting his head blown off in a car which doesn't seem to faze Torchy at all since she was looking for a head line. (You may boo now.)

The fun of Torchy movies, as I've said before, rests in the easy camaraderie of the principals and the rapid fire delivery of Glenda Farrell, who gets to show off one honey of a gown in this entry. But this one has a couple behind the scenes notes worth mentioning. The screenplay comes from an original story by Will Jenkins, "The Purple Hieroglyph") and the screenplay is credited to Murray Leinster and Will Jenkins, even though the two are the same person. Ha ha, you crafty filmmakers. And it was previously filmed in 1920 as *The Purple Cipher* and in 1930 as *Murder Will Out*. Back again is director William "One Shot" Beaudine whose economical method of editing in the camera, making only the shots he knew would end up in the final film, moved quickly and efficiently. He previously directed *Torchy Gets Her Man* (1938).

We're back into the mystery mold with *Torchy Blane In Chinatown*, even though no one steps one foot into the titular area. But personally I think rather than shipping Torchy off to Chinatown off screen, the film could have benefited more from her presence ON screen. She is, after all, the spitfire that fuels these adventures, even though Gahagan (Tom Kennedy) gets to spout some poetical lines along the way, even as he stands on a submarine that is slowly sinking in the east. If we could just clone or resurrect some of the DNA of Glenda Farrrell, we could enjoy a weekly series with her, but chances of that are not surfacing, so we will have to content ourselves with only one more of her starring roles in the next installment, *Torchy Runs For Mayor* (1939). Too bad she wasn't around for this last Presidential bid--with her speed all press conferences would be over in ten minutes.
Enjoy.
Jeff

Space absolutely onboard with creating a Boogie van. Backend jackup, mags and sidepipes. We gonna just cruise.